


Baptism

by Nalyra



Series: A blackish red hue [1]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Violence, Explicit Sexual Content, First Kiss, First Time, M/M, Original Character Death(s), Post-Canon, Post-Episode: s03e13 The Wrath of the Lamb
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-15
Updated: 2016-04-15
Packaged: 2018-06-02 09:34:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 16,366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6561175
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nalyra/pseuds/Nalyra
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What if the fall was part of the plan?</p><p>(Hannigram TWOTL cont.) </p><p>:)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MissDisoriental](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissDisoriental/gifts).



> Inspired by Mr. Hugh-Dancy-I-can-do-micro-expressions-as-well (yes, he can) and various rewatches, this spooked around in my brain until I sat down to let it out.
> 
> Post TWOTL, starting with the motel, so there's original dialogue here.  
> English is not my first language and this is the first story I wrote in literally ages.  
> Be kind.
> 
> And yeah, there's smut later. Also the first time I wrote that. *hides*
> 
> Also gifted to MissDisoriental because I just love your work so much and it's the reason my fingers just kept on itching.  
> Your fault :)

He's coming to with a roaring headache.  
It's pounding right behind his eyes and there is a foul taste in his mouth. The cold water splashed everywhere to wake him doesn't help.  
His neck hurts when he rises his head and he realizes he is slouched over in the chair in the corner. Slowly raising his eyes he feels more than sees the menace pointing a gun at him.

"Do you think you can sit up? Try to sit up."

Try... It scares him. Has the Dragons promise by proxy been fulfilled? A slow inventory of his bodys responses brings relief and a certain disbelief. 

"You didn't break my back..."

Why didn't he? It must be something the Dragon wants of course. Ding dong the Dragons not dead - he can just hear it already and wonders briefly if his inner voice is foreshadowing the real one. If he can survive this little encounter of course.

"Your face is closed to me..."

Well. Thank heavens for small favors. Will cranks up his empathy. Its surprisingly easy now that he is "back". Theres a cacophony of thoughts in his head, all vying for dominance. The chips are on the table again. A new game. A new threat, again, not just to himself. The fact that he's not dead means the Dragon wants something from him. It means he will have to go back. It means he will have to face -him- again. It means another ill timed opportunity for... choice. Ill timed for the wound he has inflicted when leaving. On -him- and himself. 

"If I can see you ... you can see me."

It's a step forward. The Dragon has seen the part that belongs to -him-. The part Will cannot rip out, no matter how hard he tries.

"Oh, you think you understand, don't you?"

Slightly sarcastic, condescending there. Well he can't blame him. Being alone in his illusional world for so long and believing only -he- (say it), Hannibal can understand, will isolate you. Time for securing his own safety for once.

"I understand that blood and breath are only elements undergoing change to fuel your radiance."

Hannibals voice resonates in his head as he recites the words. There is a small pang of ... envy at them being directed at the Dragon, even though he recites them himself. It's not exactly unexpected, and therefore he feels it even more keenly. 

"Hannibal said those words... to me." 

He draws out the "me". Theres a chasm in his chest remembering the feeling of that intense, craved attention so long ago. But he is ignoring the pang for now. It's important the Dragon sees him as a ... kindred spirit for the time being. Will wonders if the words are really necessary or just testament for the Dragon to Wills time with Hannibal. 

"I wanted to share with Lecter. And Lecter betrayed me."

An opportunity. The Dragon is -very- disappointed. Well, being played with is no fun, there is no one better knowing that. Still. He wonders briefly if he wants the Dragon to actually "share" with Hannibal. Considering not -all- of this has been on Hannibal... well, this time. 

"Yeah, he betrayed me too."

That is the truth. And... not. He does not show it, but there is a whole maelstrom of feelings at this statement. The abyss of their zero sum game opening, battering his defenses. He knows that a decision will have to be made ... again... soon. The betrayer and the betrayed. Will wonders if he can, will, wants to betray again. And whom. There is just a hint of black fog in the periphery of his vision.

"I would like to share."

Indeed. He swallows down the knowledge just what sharing acutally entails. The proof of this desire has been buried in family graves and dragged Will back into this. One last shot to stop this. He is somewhat short of breath suddenly.

"Yeah, you shared with Reba."

Will wonders if it will be enough to remind him, at the same time knowing that it will never be enough. If the Dragon shared with the whole world it would not be enough now. 

"I shared with Reba a little. In a way that she could survive."

A calculated exercise in restraint. Proof that the man is still there in the Dragon.  
But a little is not enough, so he just states it.

"But you didn't change her."

There it is, the incentive to up the game. The change supercedes the sharing and is still desperately craved, but not everyone will do now. Rebas deliberately missed change has to be compensated. 

"I've chosen not to change her. I'm stronger than the Dragon now."

Will feels it in his bones. He knows what the Dragon wants. He has to avert his eyes. Saying the words will change this game. There will be no going back. Opening this door will put everyone at risk again. It will mean deceiving everyone -someone- and setting Hannibal free. The man who sent the Dragon to kill his wife. There will be no going back to Molly if he goes down that path. Hell, there is almost no going back now. But if he doesn't the Dragon will destroy everything in its path in his fury anyway, starting with him. It's a choice not exactly forced but presented, this time, at the last, and Will, letting his self-imposed restraints go, makes his decision, for once for himself.

He refuses to acknowledge the shaky, sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach and concentrates on the feeling of justified revenge paired with elation that rears its ugly head, making his own darkness step up front. He forces himself to look into the Dragons eyes.

"Hannibal Lecter is who you need to change."

It is said. Unwavering. Compelling. Will knows he will take the bait. There is a dark, thrilling satisfaction to direct this game for once and he knows the addictiveness of it. If he concentrates enough he can feel the tips of antlers itching to break through at the base of his neck. Will knows this should worry him more, but then the game was afoot as soon as the Dragon entered his room. There is no more room for doubt now.

"I wanna meet Lecter. How would I manage that?"

He looks at the Dragon and there is a -hint- of a smile just tugging at the corner of his mouth.


	2. Chapter 2

It's almost too easy. He has sketched the edges of a plan and has told the Dragon how he plans to set it in motion. Nothing specific, but then it should not be difficult to keep an eye on the proceedings given that the Dragon knows all the players.

The time Zeller and Price need for their analysis is hard on his nerves. Since only he knows, he spends his time getting his affairs in order. Given his current employment his lawyer doesn't bat an eye. There are several outcomes to this game and none keep the status quo. He briefly wonders if he should visit Molly and then decides against it. There are no answers he can give and he doesn't want to lie. At least his little family will be safe if he places his chips correctly.

Finally he stands in the lab listening to Zeller and Price breaking the bad news to Jack, and of course, supposedly, him. His lack of surprise can be seen as pragmatic consternation. That fits better than it should. He keeps his hands in his pockets, just rises his eyebrows and sets the next piece to the board.

"The great red Dragon lives."

 

______________________

 

Jack must not have been too happy with his lack of reaction, because he leads him outside the lab onto the floor. He seems weary facing Will and ends up standing sideways, half turned away. Will cannot blame him. Jack may not know the rules of the game yet, but he is far from stupid and therefore rightfully worried. Will decides to appeal to Jacks tactical training. He keeps his hands in his pockets to refrain from fidgeting and keep his stance secure. 

"The obvious thing is to get him to come to us."

What a nice, obvious and convenient thing that would be. Will shoots a sidelong glance at Jack. He doesn't try to hide his emerging darkness now... there is more than enough for him to hate about this and it makes the suggestion that more honest.

"Bait him with something he wants more than me."

He cannot suppress the slight head tilt up at the end of this statement. Directing the game is exhilerating. No wonder Hannibal keeps playing.

"He would be an idiot to go for it."

Jack is not exactly sold yet and he intervenes quickly. Will is twisting in his shoes and tries to keep the energy contained. He valiantly tries to keep the next question light but it almost comes out as flippant.

"I know. Wanna hear what the best bait would be?" 

Jack caught that. He is shaking his head not liking it already. Well, too bad.

"I'm not sure I want to."

It is to crucial a moment to risk exposing his feelings unknowingly, so Will keeps his gaze on the lab. He nods in acknowledgement of Jacks reservations, suggesting he shares them.

"Hannibal would be the best bait".

Another piece on the board. Jack is predictably frustrated and doesn't even try to hide it. But then he never understood the dark fascination.

"Why in Gods name would anyone wanna meet Hannibal Lecter?"

Will keeps the answer solely tailored to the Dragons little proclivities. There is no room for a more general explanation. Not anymore. He just rises his eyebrows and gives the obvious answer, one that had fit and will probably always fit. 

"Well to kill him, Jack."

A quick look into Jacks face. Yeah, that is logical to him. Will elaborates a bit more.

"The Dragon could absorb him this way, engulf him. Become more than he is."

There is something in Jacks gaze as Will says that. An almost unbelieving concentration that's nonetheless not quite consciously displayed. Jacks going out on a feeling but chooses to believe in Wills lawful intentions fow now.

"You sound pretty sure..."

Jacks fishing for a reaction here. So Will gives him the best he can fake. He looks to the side and inserts some fidgeting motions to suggest nervousness.

"I'm not sure, who's sure? I'm not even sure Hannibal would draw the Dragon, I just say that it's our best shot."

He heavily emphasises "best shot" returning to Jacks gaze at that, nodding slightly. He has said all he can say, now he just has to sell it convincingly. He keeps looking into the lab where Zeller and Price are still working. Jack checks that no one is near enough to hear, before he takes the first bite of the bait.

"Set him up how?"

He has won this round of the game. The pieces are set, now it's time to set them in motion. He starts pitching the plan to Jack, knowing he will not like it but will nonetheless go ahead with it, taking anything he can get, consequences and casualties be damned.

"We take Hannibal into federal custody, we fake an escape."

Will keeps his eyes on Jack. There is no need to hide his resolution now. He just lets the thought settle in Jacks mind.

Jack excuses himself in order to discuss their little scheme with the bureau. Will briefly wonders which favors Jack will have to call in and then decides that all things considered, Jack will sleep very well in the bed he made for himself regardless.

______________________

He figures that with time to spare he can actually keep his appointment with Bedelia. Also, it's a almost indecent fun to break the news to her and lay out his plan a bit more detailed than he did for Jack or the Dragon for that matter. Although he does not show it for now. Her countenance breaks and she levels an utterly unbelieving gaze at him before she turns to the only solace she has now. She doesn't offer him any. He rises his head, interested in her insight but thoroughly unmoved.

"We assign a moment to decision. What you propose so... thoughtless... I find it difficult to imagine that moment exists."

She is shaken, gulping down a big shot of whiskey. Will wonders if all the recipes Hannibal has sent her flash before her eyes now.

"Decisions are made of kneaded feelings. They are more often a lump, than a sum."

He recites more than he elaborates. Will knows Bedelia knows all this. He doesn't give her an inch. Not anymore.

"However you think you're going to manipulate this situation to your advantage - think again!"

Bedelia is still composed but then she survived Hannibal. She tries to influence him to abandon his plan. He decides to take her out cold.

"There is no advantage. It's all degrees of disadvantage...."

Almost panicking now as she warns him, drawing breath harshly.

"He who holds the Devil let him hold him well. He will hardly be caught a second time."

Time to take a stand. He lets his darkness shine openly when he informs her.

"I don't intend Hannibal to be caught a second time."

"Can't live with him, can't live without him. Is that what this is?"

Will realizes that his statement can be construed so that he wishes for Hannibal to be dead. It is a possible outcome. He decides to let Bedelia hope a little while longer.

"I guess... this is my becoming."

She cannot stay still and look at him anymore, moving from his darkness towards the light. He scares her now.

"What you're becoming is... pathological."

Well, that's almost hilarious from her. He decides to throw her own words back at her.

"Extreme acts of cruelty require a high degree of empathy."

And she knows he possesses that in abundance. If and when he decides to employ it these days. She succumbs to the feeling of dread slowly.

"You just found religion. Nothing more dangerous than that."

Will gets up. There is nothing more to gain here, no insight or amusement. He will not leave her in this ambiguous guessing situation though.

"I'd pack my bags if I were you, Bedelia. Meat's back on the menu."

He sees the exact moment when his words hit home, twisting his previous comments around making her breath stutter in terrified fear. It makes her vicious. 

"You righteous, reckless, twitchy little man. He might as well cut all of our throats and be done with it."

That's an almost comforting thought by now. It would certainly be easier for a lot of people. He acknowledges her ire with a nod but slides the proverbial knife deeper nonetheless.

"Ready or not, here he comes."

He's feeling thoroughly elated leaving her and her unbelieving gaze, wondering if he will ever see her again - or taste her someday. There is no doubt in his mind that she will run. Or try to. She will not go to Jack Crawford. The game is in motion already. She will try to cut her losses. They all will try to do that.


	3. Chapter 3

In the end, it's almost unbelievably easy - again. Jack pulls strings, the bureau gives in due to public pressuring, and deems Hannibal a lot more easily manageable than the Dragon due to his long incarceration anyway. Will privately disagrees gleefully of course. How anyone could think that all of this has not been orchestrated for a long, long time is beyond him. He has to admit it though, a game with that many variables and outcomes is not easily predicted or directed and it's intrinsic cleverness will go past a lot of minds.

Alana convinces Jack to send her to Hannibal. She has to at least try to make amends anyway. She doesn't like it and Will almost pities her. Almost because he knows he will have to walk down that proverbial walk of shame next. There is no way Hannibal will give up the power to have him at his beck and call after he left him emotionally wounded in his cell.

She is back after a while, visibly shaken. Will assumes that Hannibal reminded her of risks. Hannibal is beyond petty concerns of deflection now, so he will make no secret out of his intention to escape. Alana targets Will with a look that says clearly how unhappy she is with the situation.

"Hannibal has tentatively agreed to the deal as proposed."

Jack looks tired and through with it but just wants the shit off his table. 

"What will it take to make him less tentative?"

Alana just gives the obvious answer.

"He wants Will to ask him." And then, slightly disgusted: "He wants you to say please."

It's nothing that he didn't expect. Hannibal knows that this was Wills idea. Now he only has to convey his willingness. 

"I'll say pretty please."

They drink to it. The alcohol burns his throat und with it the last remnants of trepidation. Jack rolls the dice.

"Well, people are going to stampede if they think that Lecter is out."

Will could not care less right now. Good thing its a fitting response.

"Let them stampede. Authenticity. Let them ... believe I helped Hannibal escape."

Oh the irony. Alana doesn't like it but then her antenna for Will has always been better than Jacks. Misguided, and singularily focused yes, but better.  
Jack is just a tad unbelieving and sad.

"Authenticity?"

As if Jack didn't know this was coming. There is flat weightlessness in Wills statement.

"Someone has to be close... when the Dragon comes."

Alana is alarmed now. She knows him too well. Knows he will not be able to help himself. Part of him wishes to tell her that he is, already. It's too late to now though. She keeps her eye on him.

"And then?"

It's Jack who answers though. Will doesn't need to say the words.

"We.. kill Dolarhyde. And then... we kill Hannibal."

Will doesn't look at both of them. He just acknowledges the sentiment and raises his glass in mock salute, wondering if he will be among the dead before this is over.

"To the Devil his due."

Thank god this, again, can be taken whatever way they want.

___________________

He is reaching for Hannibal in his mind palace before he enters the prison room, entering willingly. He doesn't expect Hannibal to make it easy to him and he doesn't.

"I thought you said your good byes."

Well, if you want to call it that. He tries for a flippant approach.

"We've one last good bye between us...."

Hannibal must have caught it. Will coming back to plead and emphasize his supposed good bye, means he will come onto the little setup trip with him. Still, Hannibal needles him a bit more on that.

"You didn't just say good bye though, did you? That little... extra bit at the end. What was that you said?"

As if he couldn't recall every second of every meeting they ever had. Hannibals tone is deceptively light. Will can tell though that he successfully hurt Hannibal with it. Well, tough. Still, no reason to burn more bridges between them when he is actually trying to rebuild them, so he repeats himself softly.

"You'd have never turned yourself in, unless I rejected you." 

Hannibal savors his intonation with closed eyes, no doubt hearing the underlying regret.

"Yes, that extra bit. " A blink. "I believe that's what they call a mic drop. You dropped the mic, Will. But here you are, having to pick it up again."

Will doubts Hannibal knows how far he has dropped the mic this time. Time for clarification.

"I knew you'd keep running if I kept chasing you. I know you wanted me to know exactly where I could find you when I needed to."

He emphasizes the "running" and "needed". Hannibal is seemingly unimpressed but acknowledges the assessment right away.

"And you did."

There's an almost there smile on Wills mouth now. He has to look down and reign in his expression before he continues.

"I need you Hannibal." 

Hannibal looks decidedly unimpressed, but then he is the one the security cameras are trained on. 

"Ding Dong, the Dragon is not dead."

There it is. Deja vu extraordinaire. It's comforting.

"He told you he wanted to meet you, maybe thats a serious invitation. After the big escape you send a message to the Dragon in the personal ads asking for a rendez-vous."

"He won't go near a mail drop."

Flat out condescending. Meaning 'I don't buy your story.'

"He might be curious enough to look at one. See if you sold him. We chose a drop that can only be watched from a few places from a long way off. Stake out the observation points."

Flippant again. Meaning 'Who cares for the setup anyway?'. There's minute movement in Hannibals face now. He has definetly caught on, but there are appearances to maintain. Will keeps his face even, passive just on the verge of smiling around the edges of emerging darkness.

"It sounds weak to you. Even as you say it."

"Secret service has a setup that they've never used. They'll let us have it."

Will is playing to Hannibals vanity now, knowing that Hannibal knows.

"You're our best shot Hannibal". 

He pauses for effect, has to avert his eyes to keep his face. He wets his lips, meeting Hannibals gaze again after, raising his eyebrows in mock surrender.

"Please."

It's drawn out just enough to sound pleading. Hannibals smug little smile even reaches his eyes.

___________________________

He doesn't know the channels she uses. It doesn't surprise him though. Their conversation is quick and to the point, the number she uses untraceable. She is far from happy to see the course of action he takes. He couldn't care less. She commits to help him anyway.

It's becoming unreal now.


	4. Chapter 4

Will tries to ignore the officers in the van with them.  
There is no guarantee they will survive if and when the Dragon strikes. There is no guarantee he will survive either, but he has an inkling the Dragon wants to have him there when he "changes" Hannibal. After all, one adult was always disabled while the other was killed during the Dragons 'changings'. Will refuses to visit the subsequent roles of that scenario in more detail. He does not intend to let that scenario play out at all.

They sat him right across Hannibal in the van, all locked up in his little cage and straight jacket. He cannot help looking up. Hannibal does not know about Wills meeting with the Dragon and he flicks his eyes deliberately to the shotguns of the guards. Will ignores him.

There are sirens. Will checks the positions of the guards weapons. And then....

It's all just over so fast. And again with a roaring headache and impaired vision. Will shortly wonders if that is the Dragons pass-by trademark. He sees the guards being killed in stark, staccato images, feels the menace of the Dragon. And then it's gone again. His vision comes back slowly, only fast enough to see Hannibal climb out of the van.

Hannibal inhales deeply, no doubt enjoying the hell out of life again already, and sheds his straight jacket and bite mask.

"He's not gonna kill us here. What he wants to do requires something a little more private."

Hannibal leaves Will to crawl out of the van on his own and Will is not above feeling just a tiny bit cross about that.

"What are you doing?"

"You know Will, you worry too much. You'd be much more comfortable if you relaxed with yourself."

Hannibal walks over to a police car, just throws out the dead cops and drives over stopping next to Will. The next question, throwing out another dead cop at his feet, is a double entree if there ever was one.

"Going my way?"

Will levels him with a look that is decidedly on this side of exasperated and asshole.

_______________________

The journey east takes a while. And although Hannibal keeps off the sirens and Will turns off the radio - a not entirely rational and/or clever move that brings another little smile to the corners of Hannibals mouth - it's not an uncomfortable one. There is so much he could say, but he holds his tongue. He feels that, whatever resolutions they have to reach, have to be through deeds, not words.

Will can smell the sea way before he can see or hear it. He inhales deeply, relaxing as it calms him. He glances at Hannibal, and sees him smiling. Will wonders if he chose this destination with Will in mind. There is a pang in his stomach at the thought.

They turn of the cliff side road at an unmarked service road. There is a rather modern house at the edge of a cliff coming up, surrounded by trees, all slabs of stone and glass and sharp angles on the outside. 

They leave the car at the tree line, half hidden. The cliffs edge draws them irresistibly. Will takes the step forward to peer over the edge.

"The bluff is eroding. There was more land when I was here with Abigail. More land still, when I was here with Miriam Lass."

The mention of Abigail still hurts Will. He looks at Hannibal when he says it, and wonders if she was happy here. If she met Miriam? There is no real anger though. Not anymore. He let that go in Italy. He sighs and returns his gaze to the ocean.

"And now you're here with me..."

To manipulate and play with he doesn't add. Hannibal is already pretty cheery considering their situation, no need to buff him up more.

"And the bluff is still eroding. You and I are suspended above the roiling atlantic. Soon, all this will be lost to the sea."

It's his typical poetic type of phrasing and yet it seems like another double entree to Will. He stays a moment longer, trying to grasp the edges of understanding, wondering just how much Hannibal has grasped already.


	5. Chapter 5

The house is well kept and almost dust free. Will wonders how many of these houses Hannibal maintains and then decides he doesn't care. He wonders about that, too.

He takes up the offer to shower in one of the guest rooms en suite bathrooms. He expects them to be lavish and is not surprised when they are. He does not expect new clothes laid out for him, but he admits to himself that he is not surprised either. He is surprised that they fit however. One of these days he has to find out who Hannibal was able to talk to from his prison cell, because although Will has not slouched in the last 3 years he is not as thin as right after being gutted and chasing after Hannibal either. There is fleeting thought, that Hannibal had fitting clothes for him in Italy as well, likely meaning he had contacts in the hospital or with coworkers. The obsessive bastard.

It is almost dark now outside. Hannibal, wearing something rather simple quite similar to when Will saw him first in Jacks office all these years ago, has openend some canned soup with a sneer that has Will grinning and ducking his head to hide it. It's surprisingly good though, and Will feels comforted by its warmth, although Hannibal cannot hide his utter disgust eating it. There are.... looks and the odd, fleeting, rare smile, but no talking. Neither wants to break the brittle little bubble of peace just yet.

It is dark when Will finds himself gazing out at direction of the sea and the moving trees illuminated by the houses lights just beyond the little barbecue terrace. He is feeling vaguely pensive and there is a nagging feeling of mourning. The music is soothingly familiar. He wonders at the ease they fall back into their old patterns.

"You're playing games with yourself in the dark of the room..."

Hannibal comes up to the piano behind him, placing a bottle of wine on it. Of course he has wine here. Will is silent while he contemplates that Hannibal knows very well that they are playing this game together, even if they are probably/maybe/hopefully? chasing different outcomes. The comment is only meant to open him up to conversation, so Will turns around.

"Was it surprising that I heard of the great, red Dragon?"

Polishing the glasses. Nonchalantly, of course.

"Was it surprising when you heard from him?"

He is facing Will now, gauging his reaction. He wants to hear wether Will kept tabs, was prepared to enter his world again. Will has the fleeting temptation to be snappy about it, but there is not much here but the truth now.

"Yes and no."

He keeps his face purposefully blank, giving Hannibal exactly nothing. It's worth it to see the little note of frustration pass on Hannibals face.

"Do you intend to watch him kill me?"

It must be really frustrating not pulling all the strings... Will decides he has to needle Hannibal more. 

"I intend to watch him change you."

Now that is a lie. And Hannibal knows that. There is no way on this earth that Will would willingly -watch- someone murder and rape another person. Will can see from Hannibals facial expression that he doesn't buy it either but that he still appreciates Wills candor on the subject. Hannibal starts opening the bottle.

"My compassion for you is inconvenient, Will."

Oh for heavens sake. They are about to engage and hopefully kill another serial killer and Hannibal is still obfuscating. Will has had it to here. He sighs before answering, keeping his face and tone flat, neutral.

"If your partial to beef products it's inconvenient to be compassionate toward a cow."

It makes Hannibal chuckle opening the wine bottle. He smells the cork, deeming it worthy, coming over to give Will a glass and fill it.

"Save yourself, kill them all."

There is an undertone to that statement, Will cannot shake the trepidation. He shakes his head minutely.

"I don't know if I can save myself. Maybe that's just fine?"

Hannibal tries to make sense of that statement, it's all there in his carefully controlled expression, which is an open book to Will right now. He is nodding lightly, apparently having come to a resolution, more to himself, turning away, stepping between Will and the window towards the terrace, pouring himself a glass.

"No greater love has man than to lay down his life for a friend."

Hannibal toasts lightly towards Will and Will has to lower his gaze. There is a tingling at the base of his spine, kicking him into high alert. He looks at Hannibal again, internally fidgeting, outwardly projecting calm.

"He's watching us now."

"I know."

Hannibal raises his glass to sniff at the wine and then it happens. Will was expecting it and yet, it shocks him. The bullet destroys the glass window behind Hannibal, enters to the left of his spine, leaves Hannibals body just below his liver, shattering the wine bottle in its path. They both watch the wine bottle fall, before Hannibals knees collapse under him in a calculated way. Will cannot help but feel somewhat amused watching this performance. Oh, it most certainly hurts, but it also was expected and Hannibal has a very high pain tolerance after all.

The dragon enters through the shattered glass, aiming his gun at Will. 

"Don't run, I'll catch you."

Will raises his wine in a mock hands-up. He had no intentions to run in the first place. The Dragon lowers his gun and sets up his equipment.  
Hannibal drags himself into a sitting position against the piano, panting heavily. Well, its a bullet wound. 

"Hello Francis."

"Hello Dr. Lecter."

Theres awe in the Dragons voice. Will is suddenly thoroughly pissed and desperately needs some alcohol to keep an indifferent face at the whole situation. He takes a sip. It's a very good wine and he turns his attention back to Hannibal who addresses the Dragon again, although the words feel as if addressed to Will.

"I'm so happy you chose life, Francis. Suicide is the enemy. You were seized by a fantasy world with the brilliance and freshness and immediacy of childhood. It took you a step beyond alone."

The Dragon is almost done setting up his camera now. Will watches on almost dispassionately.

"I'm gonna film your death, Dr. Lecter. As dying, you meld with the strength of the Dragon."

There is an almost laugh in Hannibals voice.

"It's a glorious, and rather discomforting idea."

Hannibal glances at Will at the latter part, with a somewhat peeved expression.  
Will tilts his head as if deliberating and Hannibal lets Will see just what he thinks of that. 

"Watching the film will be a wonderful, but not as wonderful as the act itself."

Hannibal turns his attention back to the Dragon not answering, knowing that things will come to a head now.  
When he sees the Dragon pull a knife out, his head swivels to look at Will. Will transfers his wine glass to his left hand and reaches back into his pants to pull out his gun. And even though Will knows that the "wives" were incapacitated with a bullet and the "husbands" were attacked with a knife, it -still- happens so fast and surprising that Will has not time to react. 

The Dragon lunges at him, plunging the knife into his right cheek, the immediate pain so stifling he drops the gun and the glass, just trying to grab onto something. He misses the expression of fury on Hannibals face. The Dragon pushes Will up off his feet, suspended on the knife in his head, between his teeth, cutting his tongue, and the Dragons hand on the back of his neck. Will coughs out gouts of blood threatening to suffocate him and tries to rip the Dragons hand away from the knife. The Dragon turns and throws him out of the shattered window. Will tumbles to the ground, coming back to himself only when the Dragon pulls him up again on his knees against him. 

Will reaches up to the knife still stuck in his cheek and painfully pulls it out. It is so painful he feels almost out of body and yet he cannot escape it. Will knows there is only one way to finish this and so he desperately tries to ignore his wound and the hands grabbing his shoulders and swings his right arm back, burying the knife in the Dragons leg. 

It only seems to enrage the Dragon more, for he pulls it out, pulls Will up by the head and buries it into Wills right shoulder, making him grunt with the pain. Will is not sure whether he wrench the knife from the Dragon and he wonders in that split second if this is it.

And then Hannibal jumps onto the Dragons back, because of course he does, and drags him backwards with his weight. The Dragon throws Hannibal off like a puppet and goes after him, leaving Will a chance to catch his breath. Hannibal hits the boulder with his wound and takes a moment too long to get up again.

Will gets up shaking on all fours, the knife still stuck in his shoulder. He pulls it out, gasping, seeing the Dragon pick up Hannibal by the throat. He pushes himself up, almost falling on his way over to them, leaving trails of blood everywhere. He manages to bury the knife twice in the Dragons back before he is backhanded landing on the ground once more, his vision blurry.

The Dragon turns back to Hannibal, deliberately kicking him at the wound in his side thinking Hannibal incapacitated for now. He turns to Will only to turn back at the noise of Hannibal picking up an axe and swinging it at his leg, almost severing it.  
Will charges, knifing him in the side, Hannibal swings again at the legs and the Dragon stumbles, falls away from them. 

Will pushes himself up again, blood all over him and he and Hannibal position themselves on either side of the Dragon. Will chances a look at Hannibal and the moment pierces through the pain and the bloodhaze, punches in his gut, brings everything into sharp clarity. He knows Hannibal can see it and he is not hiding anymore. He fixes him with a stare and lets the bloodlust shine through, charging the Dragon at the same time as Hannibal. Hannibal jumps onto the Dragons back again, pulling his head up, ripping out his windpipe with his teeth, while Will drops to his knees, and slits the Dragons stomach, baring his teeth, clenched, feeling antlers prick at his neck. He has to put his whole weight into the cut, because there is no strength in his arm anymore. There is however a grim satisfaction that -this- smile isn't done surgically. 

They both drop to the ground afterwards, the Dragon dying between them, the blood a vision of blackred wings.  
Hannibal staggers closer to the edge and Will cannot keep his knees locked. Slowly he makes his way over to Hannibal, falling back down onto his knees on the way. He chances a look at his hands and can't help but wonder, looking at Hannibal.

"It really does look black in the moonlight."

He reaches up and holds out his arm and Hannibal pulls him up. Standing there, above the roiling atlantic, still staggering with too much adrenaline and not enough blood. They are so close now, looking and gasping at each other, both covered in blood and sweat. 

"See? This is all I ever wanted for you, Will."

And there is no denying now that Will is thrilled. Bloody, hurt, exhausted yes, but also exhilaratingly thrilled. He had hoped for a slightly less injured outcome, but of course you take what you get. He grips at Hannibals arms, squeezing them. He looks at Hannibals mouth and they both look down and at the Dragon - and at the camera that Hannibal took the time to reposition before coming to help. Thank god it only has visuals.

"For both of us."

It is so painfully honest it's a punch in the gut. And it shatters Wills last defenses, already battered as they are. He looks back at Hannibal, tries to laugh but his mouth refuses to work properly. The words come out a bit slurred.

"It's beautiful."

Hannibal face is open and he is gazing down at Will with a kind of awe. It's disconcerting. He nods lightly. Will knows, that deep down Hannibal knows already how they are going to get out of this. Or die trying. It's why he shed his blazer on the way out. 

That doesn't stop Hannibal from enjoying this moment of course.  
Hannibal has Wills shirt in a death grip and Will pulls ever closer, puts his head on Hannibals shoulder, trying to prepare himself. Hannibal nuzzles close and Will is suddenly struck with possibilities of -this- that had not yet occured to him, or that he hadn't let himself consider. His eyes unfocus and he just enjoys the closeness for a moment before he pulls his bleeding, aching arm up and pulls just slightly. There is no power in this arm, Hannibal could stop the movement at any time. But he just breathes against him and shifts his weight with him. As they fall, he feels Hannibals arms come up to grab onto his back, pulling him in, turning their fall just right.


	6. Chapter 6

It is fucking freezing cold. That is Wills first thought when he comes to in the grey morning light on deck coughing up salt water and blood, his face and shoulder as well as his head screaming in pain. Chiyo spares him a short look but doesn't say anything. Will turns into a fetal position torturously, watching her set up an ad-hoc drip infusion for Hannibal, who appears to be still unconscious.

"There is a blanket right beside your head."

Will turns up his eyes and there it is, 20 cm away. Moving his left arm up retrieving it and then pulling it up over his body has him gasping in exhaustion, but his mind refuses to give in. He is alive after all, nothing more important than that now. He tries to wet his lips and has to start thrice, his mouth mostly uncooperative.

"How is he?"

"Alive."

Chiyo and her elaborate answers. Will coughs and spits out blood, the taste in his mouth a foul thing. Chiyo spares him a look then passes him a syringe. 

"Antibiotics and pain killers."

Will raises his brows at her to which she only calmly turns her back.

"He would be very displeased if I would let you die now."

Will startles himself by laughing, which turns into a coughing fit really fast, draining some of his last energy. He shakily administers the shot into his arm, then tries to get comfortable in his wet clothes for now. The waves feel soothing. He realizes they are on a medium sized motor boat and tries to speak through the numbness in his mouth.

"Didn't we talk about a sailing boat?"

"I would not have been able to get to you fast enough with an outboard engine. Also I am better at piloting it." 

"But there is limited reach."

"I have made contingency plans. So has he."

She says that as a statement, and Will wonders if that is actually true. But then, maybe these plans were always there. It would not surprise him.

She starts to clean and then stitch and dress Hannibals wounds, deftly and efficiently. Will looks on, unable to look away. The bullet went through the window first, then through Hannibal, leaving an ugly wound in its wake. When Chiyo turns Hannibal onto his side to stitch his back, Will sees the raised scar of Mason Vergers branding iron for the first time directly after seeing photos at the joke of a trial. It is a disgusting reminder, yet also strangely beautiful and he has to curb an impulse to try to reach out and touch it.  
When she is done, she checks the infusion, puts it over her shoulder and then drags Hannibal carefully into the living room of the boat onto a mattress she placed there, placing the infusion up against the table, leaving a trail of red behind. She comes to him next.

Will is quiet while Chiyo stitches his wounds matter of factly. He wonders if Hannibal will be satisfied with her handiwork. It hurts, but he is so cold by now, he feels numb. She takes a look at his head, but whatever there is, it doesn't seem life threatening. She puts self adhesive bandages on his stitches, then pulls him up by his left arm, ignoring his sounds of pain and drops him unceremoniously on the mattress next to Hannibal. She starts to strip Hannibal of his clothes with a knife and raises an eyebrow at him. He gets it. The clothes are heavy and wet, his fingers cold, it takes a while. Chiyo pulls out the couch and somehow drags Hannibal up onto it. Will has to drag himself up and collapses next to him, pulling the blanket up above them and is out like a light.

 

___________________________

 

Will comes back to himself to the rumbling of the engine and with the distinct feeling that he is being watched. He opens his eyes to faintly illuminated darkness and locks his gaze with Hannibals right away, inches from his face.

"How are you?" 

Well its what he tries to say, but his face feels tight and his tongue double its size. Something flits over Hannibals face and his left hand comes up between them, accidentally brushing over Wills chest, making it very clear that they're still naked under that blanket. Still, right now, Will couldn't care less. At least he is warm again. 

Hannibals hand softly grasps his chin and turns his head slightly so Hannibal can get a better look. He seems not happy with his cheek and gently coaxes his mouth open with his thumb, pushing it in, probing along Wills tongue and mouth carefully.  
It's the most intimate thing that Will can remember Hannibal doing to him, well while being conscious at least, and it makes him light headed. Hannibals gaze is focused on his mouth, and Will wonders where all the person suits have gone, because Hannibal is like an open book for him, hungry and intense. 

"He only nicked your tongue. It should heal within a few days. Please do not speak until then. However your shoulder will require more work. While it will heal completely, you will have to take on physiotherapy to get most of its range back."

No news there. Will exhales through his nose raising his eyebrows for a silent 'and you'. Hannibal smiles at him and shifts carefully onto his right side more firmly, keeping most of the weight on his arm.

"Chiyo dragged us out of the water just in time. I broke through the waves before you and I have sprained my ankle even though I got us turned at a perfect angle. We both have bruises from the impact. The waves separated us and you hit your head on a rock at the base of the cliff. I swam after you, kept you above water until Chiyo reached us. I must have passed out after that. Chiyo tells me that we will live."

Will snorts and then regrets that action almost immediately. Every muscle seems to hurt and his head is screaming at him and he squeezes his eyes shut. 

"We should sleep some more. Chiyo tells me that we will reach our rendez-vous point in a few hours and then we will need our energy."

Will opens his eyes again, trails his gaze over Hannibals face, sighs, and falls asleep again to the waves lullaby.

_________________________

 

When he wakes up the next time he is alone. He sits up slowly trying to get his bearings. There are clothes for him on the couch next to him and a note in Hannibals handwriting telling him to shower in the stateroom and then to come up unto the fly bridge. 

He drags himself, the blanket and the clothes to the front cabin past the little kitchen carefully, closes the door, puts the clothes on the bed there and gratefully collapses on the toilet seat in the miniature bathroom. When he looks up he sees himself in the mirror and he grimaces. His hair is a crusty salt mess, half of his face inflamed and red, his eyes bloodshot, the skin pale, bruised and clammy. He pushes himself up, removes the bandages Chyio put on him, uses the toilet while bracing himself on the wall and then tries to use up as much of the hot water as he can without irritating the stitches. He wonders if Chyio will be pissed and then decides he doesn't care. 

Finally, after a felt eternity, and after the water goes cold, he dries himself off with a towel he finds hanging on the wall, brushes his teeth very carefully uncaring with the first toothbrush he can find and gets himself dressed in the boxers, socks, jeans, t-shirt and grey sweater that had been left for him. The clothes fit -again- and Will cannot help the small smile. At least he is comfortable this way and feels halfway human. 

He makes his way slowly back to the main room, ignoring the piloting station for now but noticing that the blood stains have disappeared, leaving a faint odor of bleach. Chiyo has been busy. There is a batch of fresh bandages on the couch and he takes a moment to dress his various stitches with the self adhesive bandages. He also sees a pair of slippers in his size and puts them on, stepping outside into the afternoon sun, taking a moment to adjust his eyes.  
They appear to have stopped some time ago, in fact Will cannot remember hearing the engine while in the shower. He eyes the ladder up to the fly bridge dubiously and climbs it one at a time, dragging himself only with his left arm carefully. 

On the fly bridge he is greeted with the sight of Hannibal and Chyio sitting at the piloting station, each with a mug coffee in hand and a sandwich in the other. Will never expected to see that day. Hannibal wears something similar to Wills clothing but more stylish, of course. Will flops down onto the little couch at the back of the fly bridge and Hannibal smiles at him, while Chyio keeps switching between sandwich and binoculars looking out onto the grey sea.

Hannibal pours Will a coffee, and passes him the mug carefully with a tuna sandwich, of all things. Will stares at both somewhat floundered. 

"Eat slowly. There are only soft ingredients in there. I put milk in the coffee even though I know you prefer without, but the temperature will be better for your mouth, even though the milk is probably not the best choice for your wound. But it will do for now."

Yes mom. Maybe Will should be glad he cannot talk, he is quite sure Hannibal would not appreciate his sass just now. 

He takes a bite and only now realizes how famished he is. He forces himself to keep the bites small. 

"We have both lost a lot of blood and have swallowed sea water. We should not try to eat too much for now."

Will has to really stomp on the impulse to roll his eyes this time. He lets his gaze flit to Chiyo and raises his eyebrows at Hannibal.

"Chiyo has secured passage for us on a cargo ship of an old friend for us. We're in international waters now, waiting for the 'Nimue'. Our friends think us dead - for now, if and when they will not find bodies, the hunt will be on. I am hopeful though, that we will have reached safe grounds then."

Hannibal says this almost dispassionately, watching Will like a hawk. Will carefully raises his mug to hide his reaction. He is shaking slightly, the reality of things at once terribly freeing and daunting. The sun glints off his wedding ring and he sees Hannibals eyes darken. Will averts his gaze. Chiyo interrupts them.

"ETA 20 Minutes. I have packed suitcases for both of you, they are in the aft storage."

Hannibal nods, looks pointedly at Wills sandwich and Will chews dutifully. Really, it's a pretty good, if somewhat mushy sandwich. Knowing Hannibal, it will probably be years until the next one. He looks into the direction Chiyo kept looking at and he can finally see a small dot at the horizon coming ever closer. Chiyo takes the radio and calls the Nimue, which is about all that Will can understand, the language not one he speaks.

Hannibal gets up slowly, and limps past him, descending the ladder slowly, opening the storage compartment carefully. As promised there are 2 suitcases there, and a weekender. Light travel, Will muses. Will looks back at the Nimue as it grows to its impressive size, now approximately 10 minutes away. Chiyo starts their own engine and turns the boat to intercept. 

The short trip and the wind are refreshing and Will keeps his mind carefully blank. With the coffee gone he also descends slowly onto the lower deck when they pull up alongside the cargo ship next to a lowered rescue boat.

He has to strain to keep his balance now with the waves the Nimue produces and he can see it on Hannibals face, too. Hannibal throws one suitcase and the weekender into the rescue boat, steps over and turns. His gaze is fathomless dark on Will. 

"Chiyo will return the boat to the coast. If you wish to return to your wife and stepson you may stay on board. If there's any point. Is there any point?"

Wills mouth is dry. It's a question Hannibal has asked him before. And of course he knows the answer to it already. Will smiles just slightly, crooked, a grimace really with his torn face, half hidden under the bandage. He picks the other suitcase up slowly and carfully steps over next to Hannibal. Hannibal looks up to Chiyo and nods. She looks at them for a long moment and then drops back from the Nimue.

Hannibal sits down on a bench, and Will follows suit, not a moment too soon because the rescue boat is pulled up. Hannibal looks at him intensely, Will has to swallow, not meeting his eyes. When they reach the top, a couple of gruff men pull them none too gently onto deck. A gaunt man steps up to Hannibal and they discuss something in the language Chiyo used on the radio. Apparently 'friend' was a too hopeful euphemism, because the weekender is checked, accepted and they are escorted to a small inner cabin with two bunks not unlike the train cabin Will once shared with Chiyo. There is a small table, two stools, a closet and another miniature bathroom. As the door closes with a few more words between Hannibal and the gaunt man, presumably the captain, Will wonders how much money was just payed for this.

He slowly turns, inspecting their 6 square meters with a feeling alternating between amusement and trepidation. Hannibal limps over to the lower bunk and lowers himself carefully onto it. He did not limp on deck or show any hint of injury and now looks positively drained. He spares a look at Will.

"We will remain in this cabin for the next two weeks. Meals will be brought to us. We will leave this ship in Liverpool, where we will take the train to Edinburgh. There is a new passport in your suitcase, as well as clothes and a Kindle with an assortement of books. I suggest you rest, now." 

Will just stares for a moment, then climbs the top bunk painfully and turns onto his left side, facing the wall, his mind a white noise. He almost misses it, it is said so low.

"We will talk about our little Baptism later."


	7. Chapter 7

Will jerks awake to the banging on the door. Hannibal pulls himself together and opens it, takes the offered trays and two bottles and puts them on the small table with a sneer of disgust. Will wonders if that canned soup a felt lifetime ago was so bad after all. Going by Hannibals expression, the food will be the worst part of their journey. 

He sits down across Hannibal, all limbs aching and unceremoniously digs in. Its mushed something with something, vaguely edible. Good to eat for him, though Hannibal looks as if he would rather die. Will snorts and then he cannot stop snickering. Hannibal leans back and just looks at him, which only sets Will off more. His face hurts, where he is pulling at the stitches, and he's crying, slowly slowing to a sniffling gasping. 

"I am glad this is amusing for you. However I must admit the humor eludes me."

Will sobers up slowly and there is this intensity between them again. He reverts his attention back to the so called food and eats up. The bottles turn out to be water and a crappy wine. Still, its easy to get drunk on that when you're still low on blood. They do not talk.

Hannibal puts the trays out afterwards again, washes up, changes into some kind of pajamas and lays down without another word. Will sits at the table wondering how to express himself, even if he had words and eventually follows suit.

___________________________

The next four days pass in relative silence. Hannibal only speaks to direct Will when he checks and redresses their wounds, administer more antibiotics and painkillers. Apparently Chiyo put more medical equipment than clothes into their suitcases. Will takes to reading, staring at the wall for long stretches of time. The situation makes him itchy.

On the fifth day Will can feel the inflammation of his face calming down finally and Hannibal pushes his mouth open again, though he is very matter of fact about it. 

"Good, your tongue has healed nicely, the stitches in your cheek can come out in a few days. You may speak again."

Will opens his mouth, but there's no sound. He tries again. 

"Thanks."

Croaking. Hannibal smiles just very slightly.

"You are welcome. Tell me Will, when did you decide to throw us off a cliff?"

Right to the point, of course. Will swallows. His voice is beyond rough.

"After Dolarhyde came to the Motel Chiyo called me, I guess she bugged the room. She suggested that, I quote, 'measures to mount a sea rescue would be employed, because fire would have to be quenched by water'. I told her I preferred a sailing boat as means of escape. I did not know the details, or how she knew where you would want to go, but when we got there it all became rather clear." 

Will pauses, remembering the foreshadowing comments Hannibal made prior their engaging of the Dragon.

"Still, I wish you would have picked a house at a smaller cliff. My bones still hurt."

Hannibals eyes crinkle at the corners at that. 

"I am very sorry, Will, but this house is the only property I possess in driving distance, sea side. Chiyo has been informing me through my allowed fan mail, coded of course. She suggested staging the whole thing there and taping it for the FBI to accept our deaths more easily. So, in the end, it was just a measure of suggestions I had to plant in your head, that corresponded with her suggestions and your own impulses. You followed through beautifully."

It's almost praise, the smug bastard. Will is not sure whether he should be glad or insulted.

"When did you know to prepare for an escape?"

"I was always prepared. Francis was an excellent possibility. I had high hopes for you to find a way after what you did to Frederick. Tell me, Will, did you let Bedelia know?"

Will stares at Hannibal. He is not quite ready to discuss his little therapy sessions with Bedelia with Hannibal. 

"I ... it seemed like the ... fair thing to do."

Hannibal cocks his head at him. 

"You made sure she would be terrified because she knows the news of our death are vastly exaggerated. I wonder what she has done to warrant this as 'fair' to you...."

Will swallows, gaze flickering away. Hannibal is right of course, and there is no anger in the statement, only an amused curiosity. He decides to change the subject.

"Do you think they will buy it?"

Hannibal regards him with narrowed eyes.

"I am relatively sure. When you were asleep in the boat, Chiyo informed me, that the FBI hat found our murder/suicide tableau and had reported us as presumed dead. Tattle crime had a field day with the 'Murder Husbands' angle."

Will has to swallow again. He can only imagine how Molly must feel about that. He pretty successfully avoided thinking about her until now. He suddenly cannot stay at the table anymore, pacing through the cabin, Hannibal watching him intently.

"Tell me, Will, is it the 'murder' or the 'husband' part of that statement, that has you agitated."

'Tell me, Will' must be Hannibals favourite new game. He hides his face behind his hands, standing in the middle of their little cabin, 3 feet away from Hannibal, feeling his presence like a burning torch, scorching and shies away, drops his hands again, closing his eyes. 

"The Dragons death was righteous. And we're not husbands."

Will says it defiantly. There is a small pause in which Hannibal does not say anything.  
When he answers his voice is soft. He gets up and stands close to Will.

"No, we're not. Neither are you anymore though."

Will inhales a shaky breath. 

"What happens now?"

Hannibal smiles at him.

"We will spend some time in Scotland. I hear it's nice this time of year. You know that I cannot let you go now, don't you."

It's a statement, not a question. Will stares ahead trying to make sense of the whirlwind of emotions coursing through him and tries not to dwell on the elation he feels. 

Hannibal puts a hand on his shoulder, squeezing lightly. 

"Chiyo told me about the firefly you made for me. I would wish to see more of your design some time."

Will turns his head slightly and meets his gaze. He exhales.


	8. Chapter 8

It's more of the same afterwards, though there is an ease that was not there before. They keep talking low key. They start playing cards and getting drunk on cheap disgusting wine in the evenings. And although the cabin is too small, the air too stale, and the bathroom too small to stay -properly- clean, it is the closest Will has come to mental peace in the last 3 years. If he is honest the closest he can remember.

When the man Will thinks to be the captain finally comes to them, gruffly telling them in rather broken english that they will be in port in 2 hours it's a shock.

Hannibal passes him a straight razor and tells him to shave. Will looks at him like he has two heads and Hannibal ushers him into their mini bathroom, pushing him down onto the toilet seat. Will tries to protest with a groan.

"I will look like 20 again.... I will be carded everywhere."

"Nonsense. Although I will very much appreciate the sight, since I have never seen it."

Will gives Hannibal a sour look. Hannibal himself has started to grow out his own beard over the last weeks, changing his appearance drastically. 

"Maybe I should cut my hair off as well."

Hannibals hands still in preparing the foam. He doesn't look up.

"No."

Oooookay. Will stores that little information away for later examination. He tilts is neck up obediently for Hannibal to apply the foam, swallowing at the proximity. Even though they have been stuck on 6 square meters for 2 weeks now, they have more or less stayed out of each others spaces.   
Hannibal removes his beard slowly, taking care not to irritate his cheek. Its a red angry scar now and Will has had to pull the hairs out in the healing process, irritating the wound time and again. The process seems to take forever, and Will closes his eyes, trying to relax. When Hannibal removes the excess foam with a towel Will feels Hannibals fingers trail his jaw lightly. He opens his eyes to Hannibals burning red ones. It's hard to breathe. There is a banging on the door and Will jumps.  
Hannibal calmly turns and opens the door, exchanges a few words with the man on the other side and returns to him.

"We need to pack. There will be a dinghy taking us to a small marina just at the side of the main port in half an hour."

They pack in silence. It's not much and when they are escorted back onto deck Will is surprised that it is dark. He was under the impression that it was only noon, but he realizes that the crew must have kept pacific time. It's evening here. They are handed two thick waterproof work jackets, that they put on without comment. They climb in a prepared dinghy, Hannibal nods to the captain, and they are lowered onto the water. Hannibal looks at him.

"Would you?"

Will takes the aft, starting the outboard engine. Hannibal nods in the direction of a small light to their right. The Nimue disappears into the night, as they speed towards the marina.

___________________________

Will didn't think it would be that easy. They just put the dinghy at the dock, step out and walk to the street. Will chances a look at a clock hanging over the entrance and realizes it's well past 11pm here. 

Hannibal takes a burner phone out of his suitcase that Will has not seen before and looks up a number to call a cab. It arrives within 15 minutes, taking them to the main station. The ride downtown is surreal, the driver droning on about some kind of touristy thing or another. Apparently it's not uncommon for people to come in by cargo ship, because he loudly laments about having to go to port so often. Will has a flash of a thought of cutting the mans tongue out and then averts his gaze guiltily.   
Hannibal looks at him smirking. Will shakes is head and Hannibal makes a small 'tsk' sound. 

They take the first train leaving for Edinburgh at just past 3 a.m., passing the time getting something crappy to eat and lots of coffee, hiding in plain sight supposedly reading newspapers, Wills hair gelled back, Hannibal with an ugly cap, both courtesy of the stations drugstore. 

When they finally reach Edinburgh it's another cab ride, and another partway back, then a bus ride and a walk. By the time they reach a little cottage almost in the countryside Will is thoroughly exhausted. 

Hannibal tells him to stay next to the door and checks the house, limping again now that he has not to pretend again. Apparently that ankle really was trashed. He turns on central heating and checks water, then calls to Will to follow him upstairs. There are 2 bedrooms and a bathroom upstairs and Will mindlessly trots into the first one.  
He stands at the end of the covered bed, calling back to Hannibal.

"Is it safe?"

Hannibal looks at him with a look that says it all, then starts for the other bedroom, calling back over his shoulder.

"Sleep, Will."

__________________________

 

Will wakes from sleep disoriented and just a little grumpy. He tries to figure out what woke him, and then realizes it's the smell. Will thinks he would recognize Hannibals cooking anywhere. He pads downstairs disheveled and sleepy, seeing Hannibal in the kitchen preparing what seems to be a 10 course meal. Hannibal smiles at him but keeps concentrating on chopping vegetables. Will slowly makes his way through the cottage downstairs, the rooms opening to one another, the kitchen opening into a small dining room with the small living room beyond. There are green fields intersected with low walls visible through the windows at the back and Will wonders.

"Will we stay here?" 

"For a while. Or as long as we can."

Will raises his eyebrows, gazing at Hannibal. Settling down too long will be unwise now, yes, but there is something there.  
He seats himself at the small dining table and a cup of coffee is passed to him. 

"Thank you. How did you..."

"I went downtown by bike. I have always needed very little sleep." A pause. "I believe we will not be able to stay here for long."

Will nods. 

"How long do you think?"

"Hopefully we will have a few days. Apparently one of the crew of the Nimue has decided to sell us. The captain informed me through predetermined channels, but I do not yet know whether that person will be stupid enough to try to claim the ransom Alana has put on our heads by himself or if he will employ the help of the authorities."

Will exhales slowly, feeling weirdly calm. Somehow this feels more real than playing house with Hannibal. 

"What's for dinner?"

"You'll see. Would you mind getting changed? There should be fitting clothes in the closet."

Of course. 

__________________________

 

It's the third evening it happens. Will stands in the dark kitchen, enjoying a glass of wine, because there seems to be wine at every house Hannibal owns, while Hannibal goes upstairs to shower first. Will sees the moon and goes to the front door opening it, inhaling the chilled air.

There is suddenly a prickling sensation and he is a tad to late to prevent the knife being pressed up to his neck. A strong accented voice puffs at his face.

"Very good. The weaker one." A chuckle. "Too bad you two had to wait for that train so long.... and too bad for you the ransom is for your death." 

Ah, so Alana is not fooled anymore. Well, she is not stupid. Will raises his eyes to the moon and then lets them unfocus a bit, drawing on the strength of every killer he ever empathized with. Reality slows to a slow crawl.

Will throws the glass upwards startling the man, letting himself fall backwards. The man grabs him at his collar at the last moment and they both tumble to the ground, Will managing to get a few hits at the face while keeping the knife away from his throat with his left hand. Too bad the hits are with the right hand. He really has to pick up physiotherapy.

They roll into the kitchen and crash into the refrigerator. Will knows its only a matter of time now, until Hannibal is back down here. He smiles, utterly irritating the man. He smiles wider just holding the mans left hand now, and he can see the spooked fear in his eyes now. The man drags himself to his feet, pulling Will with him and Will goes rather willingly. 

And then he snaps, letting the mans left hand go, hitting him into his throat with right fist. The man chortles, pained, and Will manages to twist the knife out of his hand. In slow motion and almost dream like he pulls it across the mans throat, flashing back to that dream about Hannibal years back, gasping in the spray of blood.


	9. Chapter 9

Will drops to his knees, knees wide, blood splashing to all sides, there is so much of it, the knife in his hand toppling to the ground. He arches his back spreading his arms along the wall, grounding himself against the coolness of the stone, still panting, feeling that gaze upon him. He turns his head towards the door, and opens eyes he doesn't recall closing, seeing Hannibal standing there with one hand on the doorframe, holding himself up, the other holding a bottle opener, of all things. Will starts to laugh, first an almost giggling laugh turning into a full belly one. Hannibal gives him a sour and then amused look, that is nonetheless full of an intensity that Will still doesn't know how to address yet. It sobers him up a bit.

Hannibal limps over to him, throwing the bottle opener into the sink, quickly checking the vicinity, closing the door.  
Will throws a look at the heap before him on the kitchen floor. The weaker one, indeed.  
Hannibal comes to him, bends down slowly and helps him to his feet, never once minding the mess or the blood. He steadies him with a hand to his waist and his shoulder against the wall, the blood dripping off Wills clothes. Will grips his arms for balance.

"Are you hurt?"

Will shakes his head, still panting slightly. He must look a mess, he realizes, that mans arterial spray having gone right over and passed him. It's heavy tang fills the air with the smell of iron and violence. Will realizes that this is the closest to the night on the cliff that they have let themselves come. Suddenly he can't bear to look into Hannibals eyes. He has to swallow, seeing Hannibal mimic the action. Maybe it's not safe to look at Hannibals throat either. He looks passed Hannibals shoulder out the window but all he sees is the moon and the blood black in its light. 

Will closes his eyes, starting to shake and desperately tries to reign in his emotions and contain his sob. Hannibals hands tighten on him and he lowers his head onto Wills shoulder. He nuzzles into the hair on his nape and Will is simply overcome with the need to feel more of it. He closes his eyes and bares his throat. His voice is gravelly.

"Please."

He feels and hears Hannibal stop. No breath, no motion, no muscle twitch. For a long 5 seconds there is nothing but the frantic beating of Wills heart right there, pounding away in the veins in his neck right under Hannibals mouth. 

And then there is a wholebody groan, the force of which travels right down Wills spine and into his dick. Hannibal jerks his open mouth up along his throat, his jaw and just over his half open mouth. He can feel his breath everywhere and it consumes him, making him whine. It would be embarassing if he wasn't so far gone already.

Hannibal slides his left hand to the back of Wills waist and pulls him flush against himself. His right hand twist into Wills shirt right at his neck, holding him there. Wills nails bite into his arms. 

"Will..." 

It's a whisper and it makes him open his eyes. He realizes that Hannibal waits for a sign of permission to proceed. As if that which is pressed against him wasn't sign enough. Theres a millimeter space between their mouths now and Will closes his eyes again and concentrates on the feeling of want he has denied himself for so long. 

Suddenly it's not so difficult to close the distance, not so weird to hear Hannibal moan, not so hard to open his mouth wide and not so unbelievable to grind against Hannibal while his mouth is being tongue-fucked whithin an inch of his life. There is no time for finesse here, he is so high strung the touch of Hannibals left hand to his groin shatters him, his almost scream hungrily swallowed down by Hannibals mouth.

____________________________

Hannibal is slowly drawing back, releasing Wills breath first, open mouthed, then he releases Wills mouth tilting his chin slightly up. Will lets out a soft sound at the missing contact, still panting. Hannibal slides his left hand back to his waist, tilts his head downwards and speaks very softly and deliberately directly into Wills ear.

"When I am done with you, there will be no past to erase between us anymore. Only the future to come."

It's a despereate twinge of arousal that travels down Wills spine, making him light headed with renewed fire. A heavy mix of want, grief and hope, all rolled into one, being carried on the lasting remnants of his orgasm mere moments ago.  
He realizes he still has Hannibals arms in a deathgrip and slowly tries to release his fingers. Hannibal licks at his earlobe and Wills whole body jerks.

"So responsive. Have you ever been on the receiving end with your partners?"

Wills eyes open slowly. Hannibals pulls back and his eyes bore directly into him, pupils blown, the thin ring of the remaining iris almost a red hue. Will knows the meaning hidden in that question of course. It is after all somewhat self explanatory in the current situation, and he snorts and then groans and smiles, still dopily, when Hannibal grinds into him, hard.

"Your fishing for the information if I've ever been with a man could use some finesse, Doctor Lecter."

It's said teasingly and Will sees Hannibals eyes crinkle, just before Hannibal bows his head again, pushes back the collar of his shirt with his right hand and bites into the meat of his shoulder, hard enough to bruise. Wills head rolls back and he has vague thought, that if he hadn't just come already, he would have now. Biting kink while bedding a cannibal, now there's a surprise. He has goosebumps all over. Hannibal is coming back up, smirking, speaking close to his mouth now, his breath fanning over his lips.

"I would like to have all the information at hand, lest I lose myself in the moment and hurt you."

Will snorts again. He looks Hannibal into the eye through his lashes.

"You like to hurt me. I'm bearing your ownership and our history all over me."

Hannibals eyes go flinty for a moment, then they grow warm again, the shadow there all but reigned in.

"We both do, but I will not hurt you more than absolutely necessary. I hope the future will hold enough time to explore our diverse proclivities, if this is something you wish to do, but I think we both have paid with enough blood and pain for a respite."

Will swallows. He feels flayed open suddenly, feeling this moment in a heightened sense of reality.

"I... I don't want you to hurt me in this. And you're right, I've never been with a man. Well, until just now...."

There it is. It's hilarious to feel so shy now, Will thinks, but it's freeing also. Suddenly he is very aware of the fact that Hannibal has not come yet. Wills right hand tentatively slides from Hannibals arm down his shirt to his pants, intending to return the favor. Hannibals left hand quickly slides from Wills back to stop him, entwining their fingers, pushing his left arm above his head against the wall, coming ever nearer. Their chests push against each other on every breath now. Hannibals dark eyes bore into him, fathomless in their intensity.

"Don't. I will come within you. I will be your first and your last."

It's said matter-of-fact and utterly possessively and theres suddenly not enough spit to swallow properly. Considering this is Hannibal, it is not surprising and still Will feels like the floor was pulled out from beneath him. There is a weird calm there, edging into his consciousness, tempting Will to let go, accept this, this reality he is offered.

Will releases a shuddering breath, and lets himself fall into it. Somewhere in the back of his brain, Abigail laughs sneakily.

Hannibal is so near now, there is no air between them. Whatever resolution Will has reached just now, it must show in his eyes because Hannibals pupils turn impossibly darker, and there is a slight exhale that might or might not have been Wills name. Hannibal slowly noses along Wills cheekbone and eye, like a cat, along his temple and then down his jaw, mouthing softly at his skin just below his chin, licking at the droplets of blood everywhere.

Hannibals right hand slides down from his right shoulder to the buttons of Wills shirt, opening one by one until it falls open, the light from the window illuminating the small portion of the smile that bisects Wills stomach. Hannibals breath hitches, his gaze falling down to the silver scar tissue, some of his silver strands of hair falling down obscuring his face from Wills view.

Will watches him through lidded eyes, musing a bit through the mild grade arousal that his body keeps simmering in. Hannibal must have seen the scar before, he re-dressed him several times over the last years. Still, the current context is important. The thought brings a very small, indulgent smile to his lips. He deliberately makes his voice soft and inviting.

"You can touch it."

It's Hannibals turn to exhale shudderingly now, swallowing.  
He draws his forefinger over the expanse of Wills stomach, watches him draw it in reflexively. The touch to the scar is featherlight, ticklish and Will has to fight to keep still. Some of it must have transported through his body language, because suddenly Hannibal presses back into him, his own hand trapped between them, his mouth possessing Wills mouth, tongue mapping his teeth, biting his lip. When he draws back they are both light-headed and panting again.

"Upstairs."

"What of ..."

Hannibal silences him with a finger on his lips. He shakes his head and suddenly Will couldn't care less. Hannibal pulls him along to the stairs by their locked hands. Limping. Will all bloody and sticky, his various still healing wounds itchy with drying blood and sweat. He can't help it. He's giggling.

"The lame and the wounded...."

Hannibal raises brow at him in an attempt at a hurt look, but there's a little smile to his mouth. He puts his right hand into Wills hair, fists his curls and quite effectively shuts Will up with a toe-curling kiss, the banister digging into Wills back at the bottom of the stairs, Hannibals clothed chest chafing against his. Will draws back slowly, licking his already bruised lips.

"Well, it seems we have found a solution for our arguments."

"If only we would have been able to employ this course of action sooner."

Hannibals eyes are crinkled, but there is a sadness in there as well.  
Will swallows, but has to ask anyway.

"How long?"

"I had heard of you before I met you. But you have been in my thoughts since I laid eyes on you. It did not occur to me how much you mean to me until Tobias Budge claimed to have killed you however."

Will regards Hannibal with a slightly tilted head. It still smarts.

"And yet you let me take the fall for you. Had me believe..."

"The mechanisms to change the flow of time still elude me. I have tried, unsuccessfully, for though I do not engage in regret much, there are actions I would nonetheless direct differently now."

It's strange standing here on the moonlit stairs, caught up in a sexual charged atmosphere, discussing old hurts. Will can't bring himself to care too much though. There is only the way forward now. In a way, this is the most important but still uncharacteristically short discussion they have ever had.  
Hannibal seems a bit pensive now, avoiding his eyes, and Will can't help but want the previous mood back. He deliberately lets the hurt go, it belongs to the past anyway. And though the words are grave, Will softens them with a minute smile and a slight cock of his head.

"I do not have anyone except you now. You took everyone away. You better make it worth my while."

Hannibals eyes are on his mouth, he is swallowing, the fingers in Wills hair flexing.  
He leans in slowly, and this time the kiss feels like a first kiss. Achingly sweet, lightly catching, tender pressure. It makes Wills chest hurt and he shifts, feels Hannibals thigh slot between his legs. The feel of Hannibals erection against his hip makes him sigh, his own erection slowly coming back as well. Will licks his lips, catches the small exhale Hannibal corresponding inaudible gasp generates and decides the stairs will not do anymore.

He pushes at Hannibals chest with his left hand, then pulls him up the stairs with his linked right. It is a strange feeling, taking over the lead at this point, Hannibal trailing behind him, squeezing his fingers. Of course Will is aware of the mechanics of sex, nothing new there, he was a profiler after all and did have -female- partners before, but employing the mechanics to this is still a somewhat daunting thought and Wills stomach is flipping, his palms sweaty. Hannibal notices, of course, and he stops him at the top of the stairs, placing his palm to his face not unlike back when he so proudly touched him in the stables a lifetime ago, smirking softly. 

"Will. This is not an inevitability. I will happily let you take me or wait until you are ready. I will not force you. We can also just take a shower and sleep now."

Will shakes his head. No, this night will transform them, it has already started. The cocoon is breaking. He feels himself expanding, feeding on Hannibals energy now. Still, a shower would probably be a good idea. He turns, pulling Hannibal to the bathroom.  
They turn to each other, undressing each other wordlessly, dropping the soiled clothes to the floor to be dealt with later, releasing their hands only now. This is not the first time they've been here together naked, but it is painfully different now, and Will cannot help the shaking of his fingers. 

They step into the shower that's too small for both of them, the water temperature changing all the time, but it's all so inconsequential now. Will tilts his head up into the spray, closes his eyes, lets the water rinse the blood and sweat from him, feeling Hannibal lick a path up his throat no doubt tasting all of it before it washes away. Hannibal turns him to wash his hair and Will braces against and stares at the shower wall, wondering how the hell he is supposed to survive this night, when even Hannibals hands in his hair feel like a sensory overload, Hannibals cock burning against Wills thigh where he touches him although he is careful not to overly crowd Will.

The hands move from his now rinsed hair to his wounds, carefully mapping his healing injuries, one inspecting the scars by touch, the other slowly tracing the smile on his stomach. Will swallows, slowly tracing his right hand back against the chest pressed against him, lower to the scar in Hannibals side. The bullet wound still feels ominous, the one on Hannibals back almost neat in comparison. Hannibal mouthes his neck now. Will tilts his head to the side to give him better access, hissing when Hannibal latches onto the bitemark of before. He opens his eyes, his voice rough with want. 

"Show me."

He feels Hannibal smile against his skin, the soft rumble felt against his back and the feeling of freedom to give in is elating. He cannot help but smile himself. There are little nips along his shoulders now, the hand that inspected his wounds now slowly teasing his nipples. Will gasps, bucking slightly back, feeling Hannibal chuckle. Both of Hannibals hand drop to his hips now, pulling Will back a bit, slowly pushing his cheeks apart, Hannibal dropping to his knees behind him slowly tongueing his spine, and Will is not stupid, he knows what Hannibal is about to do and he is terrified and almost unbearably aroused instantly.

The first touch of Hannibals tongue against his hole is electric, and Will has a random thought that the shower was a really, really good idea, before all thoughts are wiped from his brain, only leaving indecent pleasure in their wake. Hannibal licks in long soft swipes up from his perineum, his hands squeezing his ass, the tip of his tongue probing at the muscle until Will is a quivering mess, constantly moaning, pressing his face against the cool tile. Hannibal groans against him and presses his tongue in with slight force, his stubble chafing and making Will feel goosebumps all over. It's absurdely good and weird. Again and again until Will feels like he could come from this. Wills thighs are shaking now and he is not sure whether he will make it through the preparation, his heart beating so fast he thinks he might have a heart attack.

Hannibal reaches past him and turns the shower off, rising apruptly behind him, leaving Will dripping and gasping, trying to gather his wits.  
Hannibal grins smugly like the bastard Will right now rather thinks he is, grabs a towel and dries them off rather perfunctory, the soft material chafing on Wills cock, taking the edge off a bit. 

Hannibal gets out first, rinses his mouth, offers Will his hand, eyes very dark.

"Bed?"

All Will can do by now is nod, not enough blood in his brain to do more. He is very aware of how he must look though, still wet, face flushed, lips bitten, hair disheveled, dick leaking. Hannibal is not much better, though if Hannibals look is anything to go by, Will will be devoured. Will shivers.

Will turns and leads them again across the hall to Hannibals bedroom, entering without hesitation, only turning right at the foot of the bed. Hannibals gaze is predatory now, laced with need, he trails a thumb along Wills lips, though making no further move, seemingly waiting for the final go. Will decides to up the ante a bit again and whispers without dislodging the digit.

"Do you want me on my back or my knees?"

The black in Hannibals eyes eclipses his iris completely and he slides his thumb from Wills mouth, grabs his head and almost violently bites at Wills mouth. Will returns the kiss with the same fervor, biting on Hannibals tongue, feeling his growl deep in his own stomach, running his hands up Hannibals chest, pulling roughly at the chest hair.

Suddenly the world tilts and Will laughs openly when he realizes that Hannibal has shoved him onto the bed, standing still next to it, panting. Will pulls himself up the bed, spreading his arms across the satin spread, revelling in the feeling.  
Hannibal goes over, bends to fetch a tube of lube from the bottom drawer of his nightstand, the movements perfunctuory, calculated and controlled again. He crawls over to Will, a wild thing with thorns in the shadows, straddling him, smiling dangerously, hands beside Wills head, his cock hot against Wills stomach, Wills own twitching under his ass, slowly bending down to his left ear. 

"I will make you scream."

There is not enough air in the room to breathe properly. He fists the sheets to ground himself. Hannibal descends on him like a starving man and Will doesn't need his empathy to feel the same. It has never felt so raw for him. 

By the time Hannibal reaches his hipbones Wills skin is red and bruised and Will is mewling softly. Hannibal bypasses his cock, only breathing across it, slapping at Wills hand when he tries to reach for it. Hannibal tilts his hips up, sliding his hands along Wills thighs and spreading them, lightly tapping them as a sign to keep them that way. Will is panting now, looking at Hannibal through his lashes. Hannibal meets his gaze while slowly uncapping the lube and covering his fingers. Will slides his hands from the sheets to his knees, pulling them further up, all the time holding the gaze. Hannibals lip twitches in a rather possessive way and it only makes Will impossibly harder. 

Hannibals left hand goes to Wills right thigh, pushing it up even more, squeezing his fingers there and at the same time his right forefinger presses into his hole circling in- and outward, his thumb pressing against Wills perineum. It's so intense it is almost a relief when Hannibal pushes inward and the slight discomfort takes the edge off. It is an alien feeling, but one that Will finds himself slowly relaxing to, Hannibal having used quite a lot of lube. It even feels good in a way Will cannot define until Hannibal adds another finger and Wills body clamps right down on it. Will gasps and Hannibal soothes him through it by stroking wherever he can reach now, letting his thigh go. Will relaxes minutely and Hannibal seizes the opportunity and pushes in and up, rubbing and Will almost doubles over at the whitehot flash of pleasure, moaning loudly, wanting to punch the grin out of Hannibal right after. Hannibal deliberately misses that spot on the next few pushes earning him a hissed curse through clenched teeth that makes Hannibal only grin wider. 

It is strangely quiet now, they do not seem to need words anymore, the only sounds being moans, grunts and pants and the lewd sounds of the lube on Hannibals fingers. Will floats in the moment and almost misses addition of the third finger being called back to reality when those fingers press right against that spot inside him, making him whine with the feeling of utter pleasure, feeling so open now.

Hannibal is sweating now, his bangs hanging down over his eyes, still holding his gaze. Wills moan stutters when the fingers are pulled free and Hannibal raises his brows in an expression of almost worshipful disbelief. Will watches as Hannibal lubes himself up with shaking hands and then grabs at Hannibals shoulders frantically, pulling him up, looping left arm around Hannibals head. Hannibal takes his right hand again in his left, reminiscent of before, pushing it up over Wills head, his right hand dragging Wills left thigh over his waist, positioning himself slowly. 

Hannibals fingers squeeze his so hard it hurts, his chest on Wills chest, Wills dick pressed between them, his lips just so not kissing Will. He rocks minutely, the head of his cock just pushing at the opened muscle until Will is gaping with every touch feeling high wound and yet utterly in control. Will closes his eyes for a second, then opens them again, corners crinkling.

"Please."

Hannibals eyes crinkle in response, he lowers his forehead to Wills, and pushes. It's slow, almost excrutiatingly intense, burning pressure and Will is suddenly very very glad that Hannibal took his time. Will has no breath, teeth clenched, body rigid, eyes closed. Hannibal gasps when he sheathes himself, holding himself still for a long moment, nosing again against Wills face.

"Breathe."

It is a command if ever there was one, but not one easily followed. Will makes himself breathe through the feeling, slowly relaxing a bit again, feeling Hannibal pet him again with his right hand. And suddenly it's not stifling anymore, but merging into need.

"Move."

It's a command too and not one Hannibal has any intention of ignoring. He starts rocking again slowly, the pull of it not quite catching on that place inside him but still good enough to hint at the pleasure to come, weirdly enticing.

"More."

Hannibal kisses him sloppily at that, wildly messy, all tongue and teeth and heat and then picks up the pace until Will is moaning brokenly on every push, whining on every pull. They are both sweating now, the sounds of their skin slapping loud in the room.  
It hurts and yet it doesn't. 

And then Hannibal shifts his grip, pushing Wills hips up even more until he is almost doubled over and powers into him, hitting that spot right on.  
And Will screams through his clenched teeth. He tightens his arm around Hannibals neck, lets his head fall back, feeling Hannibal latch onto his neck and holds on. 

He feels himself tighten in a way he has never experienced before and realizes this is it. Hannibal gasps his name into his ear and he opens bleary eyes, gazing right into Hannibals black ones. Hannibals eyes are wild and breaking, there are tears and Will cannot look away. He pulls slowly out, and then punctuates his next thrust with his words.

"Come for me."

And Will does, his cock untouched between them. It's like a seizure of his whole body, suffused in white-hot pleasure, all swallowed down by greedy black that breaks with him until the blackness drags him under. He distantly feels Hannibal stutter and still, groaning and there's something salty on his lips. 

 

_______________________________

 

It takes an indistinct amount of time to get 'back down to earth' as it were. Will is vaguely aware that there is a cramp in his legs, the fingers of his right hand hurt where Hannibal has gripped him too tightly, he is a mess, he hurts between his legs in places he cannot yet define properly and Hannibal - Hannibal lies on top of him, making it hard to breathe, silently crying into his neck. He feels the best he can remember.

He carefully dislodges his left arm from Hannibals neck, dragging his fingers through the greying hair, petting. His legs drop and he winces, which seems to bring Hannibal back to himself. He raises his head, eyes bloodshot, his voice gravelly.

"Will, I.. I apologize."

Will shakes his head slowly and places the fingers of his left hand against Hannibals lips. His gaze catches on the ring that Molly placed there and he realizes that it has no place here in this bed. He feels more than sees Hannibal withdraw and quickly shakes his head again trying to placate and communicate his thoughts as clear as possible.

"Take it off for me."

Hannibal freezes above him. The look he levels at him does its best to make him hard again but he really isn't -that- young anymore. Will swallows.  
Hannibal slowly drags his right hand up at the side of Wills body, making him shiver. When he reaches his chest he follows his arm up until he reaches the hand that's still raised between them. Slowly, very slowly he starts to push the ring off his finger with his messy hand, never breaking his gaze. Hannibal encloses it in his hand when it's off and carefully puts it on the nightstand at the other side of the bed.

"What about it now?"

Hannibals voice is rough and Will knows that the answer he has isn't what the question was about, but it is the only one he has to give. He tries to say it lightly, keeping his voice low.

"Well, you took it from me. So, if we make this work, you'll have to go and replace it."

Something breaks in Hannibals gaze. There is light and darkness seeping into it in equal measure and it thrills Will to see it. Hannibals voice is the roughest he has ever heared it, the accent strong.

"I will not let you go, now."

Will smiles. To everyone else, this would have been a threat. To Will, it's the conclusion of a courtship that's lasted 6 years. He's been caught, and now he's free.

"Where do we go from here?"

"How about we pay a visit to an old friend?"

 

 

 


End file.
